Passaic City record. And Freeman's magazne., June 04, 1890, Image 2

About Passaic City record. And Freeman's magazne. (Passaic City, N.J.) 1890-1890

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DIFFERENT METHODS OF WARN
ING MARINERS
The Uncanny Bell Buoys and the
Whistling Buoys — hand “Spin
dles" — Shrill Fog Horns
—The lighthouses.
In the marvelous days to come, when
men learn the secret of soaring through
the air, toward which they are as yet so
vainly thriving, it will be a fine thing to
go abroad some starry summer night, and,
floating over the wide and dark Atlantic,
look down upon the watery thorough
fares picked out with the long, dazzling
chains of varied lights, and dotted with
bobbing red and black buoys by the
thousand, all as familiarly known to old
mariners as to us are the signs upon our
Btreets. Moreover, if human ears could
hear so far, there would come, from hun
dreds of miles, above the laugh of loons
and the boom of breakers, the long weird
whistles and the melancholy tolling that
are old Father Ocean’s unceasing orchestra
—the bell buoys and whistling buoys that
rock on the waves day and night with
their mournful music.
A BELL BCOT.
These buoys are sea-signals of a com
paratively modem type, and though a
thousand dollars is often expended for a
single buoy, they are, of course, less
cestly than the maintenance of light
chouses and their keepers would be. The
buoys are their own sextons, and ring as
lustily as if it were the Fourth of July the
year round.
The bell-buoys floated in American
waters are composed of a simple irok
framework tapering upward to a point
from the round raft on the water's sur- I
face. Up in the apex hangs the bell,
and it is a great surprise to one who,
sailing by, hears its constant ringing, to
' 3 told that it has no tongue. Directly
beneath the bell is a grooved iron plate,
and in this is a cannon-ball which, run
ning from the centre down" any groove
to which the swirl of the waves inclines
it, brings up with a bang against the
edge of the bell.
The advantage of this arrangement
over a bell-tcngue is plain. The least
inclination of the buoy sends
the heavy ball resoundingly against
the metal, while in calm waters
the bell-tongue might not be moved
with sufficient force to strike. Then,
too, the cannon-ball, sent constantly in
£ll directions outward, gets a uniform <
wear, while a clapper would wear only
On two opposite sides. The link would
•Iso soon wear away by the friction.
A
THE WHISTLING SCOT.
The part of the buoy seen above watet
is much the smallest portion of it.
What seems to be the surface of a round
raft on the water’s level is the upper part
of a great water-tight hull, which floats
the framework above. Hanging below
this is a big iron ball for ballast; and two
great iron chains, hinging from either
«ide of the hull to keep it balanced
properly, converge to one down deep t'n
the water, making a delightful subma
rine swing for the water-babies, if they
were to cushion it with a seaweed pil
low. Then, last of all, on the ocean
bottom is the great stone sinker, which
holds the whole tiling- firmly anchored.
There seems something uncanny in the
sight of a bell-buoy, swaying and bow
iug in solitude iu the great plain of heav
ing waters, and never ceasing its high,
sweet, melancholy ringing. One might
imagiue the mermen had a hand in it.
Theu there are the buoys which simply
indicate the coast highways and
thoroughfares—the glisteniug black ones,
and the long, red spars that look like
the claws of some huge lobster oft which
the sea gods have been dining. Red
buoys to port, and black to starboard, or
vice versa according to the vessel’s direc
tion, and there is the channel marked out
to the steersman as plain as if plowed
white, like the foamy wake his own
vessel leaves behind.
The launching of a buoy is no light
mutter, when it is considered that the
mere sinkers weigh two or three tons,
while those for bell and canbuoys arc
otten of live tons’ weight. But the stauch
little derrick, which is part of the tender's
outfit, grasps the iron riDg that is bolted
*hrough the sinker, and easily swings the
great granite block up into the air, and
deposits it gently at the vessel’s edge, to
be levered off by the crew’s handspikes,
when the buoy is put in place.
There is a huge splashing when this
great monster takes l.is downward plunge,
and no doubt there is much astonishment
among the tinny fry, if not disturbance
to tueir housekeeping ariangements.
Theu the buoy bobs and jerks frantically
for a moment, and, subsiding, becomes
01 e of the ipany ocean milestones.
Then there are the “spindles”—bea
cons placed on dry land, and requiring,
therefore, less oversight. They are tall
iron poles, with a circular framework
atop, the whole riveted to the solid rock.
Many a weary sea bird finds them wel
come perches after blowing adrift for
dreary leagues over a storm tossed ocean,
unblessed by a sight of rock pinnacle, or
even mast of vessel.
There are warnings done in paint
circles and stripes of gleaming white
aloft on rocky harbor entrances—which
sailors easily recognize as marking the
left or right of the entrance, as desig
nated on their charts.
The signals which send out the shrill
est warnings across the dark ocean spaces
are the fog horns or whistles placed along
the coasts where sea fogs gather thickly
and stifle not only the light of the
friendly lantern, but the tone cf the
warning bell. These are operated by
machinery, and must be seen to be un
derstood. Some are worked by steam,
and others, where water is not readily
procurable, by the hot air apparatus
called the Ericsson caloric engine.
The trumpet, which is the mouth-piece
of these signals, is outside the engine
house, and the loud and shrill tone of its
whistle is the result of the vibration of a
metal reed within it caused by the rush
of compressed air forced outward by the
action of the machinery. The intervals
A BEACON LIGHT IN A THEE.
at whistling are also regulated by the
action of a machine-moved lever pressing
against the air-valve and forcing it open
every few seconds.
Light-houses are the most numerous
of all the signaling arrangements that
dot our coasts, and probably few readers
who live within sight of the Atlantic or
Pacific waters, or the Great Lakes, are
familiar with the aspect of the light
house tower. The great barrel-shaped
crystal lens, with its rainbow multitude
of gleaming prisms, carefully covered
through the day and jealously guarded
by the keeper from the sullying touch of
prying lingers, tho queer little lantern
room at the top of the winding light
house stairs, and the wonderful view out
seaward from its windows, are sights
accessible to ’long-shored residents. But
perhaps many such residents are not
familiar with the various kind of light,
for not only does the fact of a light being
fixed or “flash" determine its location,
but so do also the intervals of flashing,
the color of the light and its magnitude.
There are fixed red and white, flashing
red and white, fixed white with red
flashes, double lights, and so on.
The flash-lights are not caused by a re
volving lens, as one might suppose, but
by a revolving framework around the
lens proper, set here and there with red
or white panes as the case may be. The
light, of course, is only seen when one
of these revolving panes passes before it.
The flashes can be produced at longer
or shorter intervals by adjusting the ma
chinery which regulates the revolving
prisms. This is an important matter,
since the revolving lights are in part dis
tinguished by the number of seconds in
the interval between their flashes.
Lights are known as of the first and
second order,and so on, according to the
size of the lens,the first being the largest.
It is wonderful to see to what perfection
these lights have been brought by skill
and careful study. The lamp itself, even
in a first-order light, is not such a brill
ALIGHTHOUSE “LANTERN.”
iant affair, but the careful arrangement of
prisms causes all the rays to be concen
trated and reflected to the best possible
advantage.
Another curious arrangement of light
is that known as the “sector.” One who
enters the “lantern” as the little tower
room is called, of a light-house haviug
this feature, will see that, in addition to
the usual lens which the lantern contains,
long and narrow red panes are inserted
between the other windows of the room
or “lantern." These have a special sig
nificance. The lamplight shines steadily
red through these, of course, and white
through the other panes, making, on the
sides upon which they are placed, a long,
broad, red pathway across the water.
Now this pathway sailors know to be a
safe and certain channel, for the particu
lar tower which bears the two red panes
has two safe approaches, and With the
utmost care the two panes have been set
so that the red light may shine directly
down them.
These are some of the many ocean
guides that beckon to safety or warn of
danger. But despite the friendly gleam
of numberless lighthouses and the wild
and melancholy warning of bell-buoys
and fog-signals, many a brave vessel hai
been ground to fragments on the sharp
rocks or sunk silently into ocean abysses
and there must be disaster and shipwreck
as long as sailors sail the seas.— Touth\
Companion.
Agreed With the Magistrate.
Magistrate—“What, sir? you arrived
here this morning by the early train, and
half an hour later you were arrested foi
stealing. Th.s is frightful!”
Prisoner (coolly) — “Frightful! 1
I should, think it is frightful. Why, 1
had n’t even time to look round the town."
—Le Gauloit.
The Servite Fathers, of Chicago, are
about to erect a church to cost half a
million dollars.
Hailstones as Bit; as Pumpkins.
Dr. Aug. Mueller, a learned son of
Saxony, now residing at Mount Healthy,
Ohio, tells of a famous hail storm in his
native country, which (but for the doc
tor’s unquestioned veracity) possesses all
the car marks of a Munchausen
“It was on the 12th of May, 1S48,
about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, that a
sharp, black cloud suddenly arose in the
heavens over ray native village, near
Weimar, in Saxony, and the terrible
thunder warned of a big storm. Pretty
soon it begau to hail. The lumps were
small at first, but they rapidly increased
to the size of hen’s eggs. The people
had all fled to places of safety, and were
watching the awful bombardment. All
vegetation was beaten flat into the earth
and the crops destroyed. Hut horror
seized the people when they saw that the
hailstones were increasing, and the roar
of the storm was deafening. The hail
stones became the size of a teacup, then
of a large-sized glass, and great masses
of ice fell that were fully as large as the
globe of that lamp (which was about five
inches in diameter).
“Yes, sir, you may well look amazed,
but great lumps of ice fell that weighed
six pounds, and these had knuckles upon
them two and three inches long, great
horned masses of ice they were. Horses
and cattle were stricken and mangled in
the fields, the roofs of houses were beaten
in, scarcely a building escaping. And
that is not all. These hailstones, mil
lions of them, fell into the river, and
were swept down by the current until
the stream became choked at the town
of Ortung, and the flood rose into the
town and a portion of it was submerged.
The condition became so serious that an
appeal for public succor was made, to the
country. People who lived under the
shadow of the Hartz Mountains on that
May day, in 184S, will never forget that
hail storm, and it is one of the current
stories of that people to their children
and to travelers. That was a hail storm 1
It was a plague 1”—Cincinnati Tima
Star.
A Queer Mouthful
A correspondent writes to a newspaper
in San Francisco: The funniest thing
out happened to me on the last passage
to Honolulu. AVe have a patent self-reg
istering log. The register is attached to
the tallrail and the propeller is towed
astern. We had about three hundred
feet of line out. Presently the log line
became as taut as a wire stay and there
was a terrible flurry near the propeller. I
happened to be on deck, and seeing the
trouble, ran to the tatfrail. What do
you think I saw? Why, I’m blamed if a
great big blue shark hadn’t swallowed
the propeller. I called some bauds aft
and we started to haul in the liue. There
were seven hands pulling on the line be
side myself, and yet we had a hard time
pulling the fish in. But we hauled 290
feet of that line in, until the shark was
right under our counter. He was quite
thirty feet long, and in a terrible rage,
lashing the water into foam, We were
just begiuning to think that we could
get him ou board, when the line mapped,
being bitten through by the shark. Just
think of it, however, pulling the shark
in 280 feet on a log line, and he did not
bite it until within twenty feet of the
tallrail! Of course, by losing the shark
we also lost our propeller, but it must
have beeu pretty hard to digest and hit
inside must have beeu pretty sore from
the strain.
The funniest part of the thing was the
action of the register. When the weight
of the shark got on to the line the blamed
register showed a speed of sixty m'les an
hour, with only a six-knot breeze. Well,
sir, when the mate looked at the register
first and then at the sails he nearly
fainted. It was not for several seconds
that he realized there was so much dead
weight ou the rope.
Poor Little Bird.
Lottie—"Why, Victor, are you not
ashamed to kill a poor little bird lik«
that?”
Victor—"Well, you see, cousin, \
thought it would do to put on you:
hat.”
Lottie—"Ah! so it would; it is thi
same shade of grey. How kind of you!’
—Petit Kouennais.
The Dark Ages included the nerlod
from the sixth to the fourteenth century.